Deep Freeze
by CrumbsUK
Summary: The team investigates a set of unusual cases across the city. Sara and Greg look into the death of a woman who was crushed by her fridge, Nick and Ray delve into the case of a man who died after falling from a casino. Chronicles of Las Vegas - 1x04
1. Part 1 of 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its affiliated characters. Characters not in the series are my own.**

**A/N: This is the fourth story in my series, **_**Chronicles of Las Vegas**_**. It's not necessary to read the first three stories in order to understand this one but if you want to go from the beginning, **_**A Midsummer Nightmare**_** would be your starting point. :)**

**The title, **_**Deep Freeze**_** has no relation to the CSI: Miami episode of the same name.**

* * *

><p>A woman in her early twenties pulled up to the driveway of her mother's house in Paradise. A small and modest bungalow was all she needed for a single fifty-eight year old although it wasn't great for many more people, particularly not for the woman's four year old twins who required a lot more space, however the move was only temporary.<p>

The woman swept back her long, blonde hair and fumbled for the keys before opening the door to the house. "Hey, hey easy!" She cried out as the four year olds ran past her laughing and chasing each other into the house. "Mom, we're back, can you help me move the groceries."

The woman walked back to the car and picked up two bags of groceries from the front seat and took them into the house, placing them by the front door. "Mom!" she called out again, "I need a little help here." She made a second trip to the car and fetched two more bags of groceries, again depositing them by the front door. Once again, her mother hadn't responded to her calls and the woman was getting impatient now and becoming increasingly irritated by her children's shrieking as they chased each other round the house, "Kids, can you please go and get your grandma to help me move this stuff!"

"Yes mom," her two sons chanted and ran off towards their grandmother's room. She managed to balance the last three grocery bags in her arms and carry them back towards the hallway. She saw that her children hadn't listened to her and were busy chasing each other around the living room.

"I thought I told you to go and get your grandma," she told them.

"But she's not in her bed mom," one of them said to her quietly, she realised she couldn't stay mad at them for this and thought that maybe she'd gone for one of her evening walks. She picked up a pair of grocery bags and walked into the kitchen, seeing the light was off in the kitchen she switched it on.

Upon surveying the scene she instantly dropped her bags, shrieking, "Oh my god!"

* * *

><p>Sara walked underneath the crime tape and into the suburban bungalow, there were two patrol cars parked alongside the house and two unis were standing around the outside ensuring that nobody was to step inside unauthorised. She entered what appeared to be a large open-spaced room which combined a family room and a dining room. She saw that Jim Brass was in conversation with a woman in her twenties who appeared to be crying, she caught a glimpse of what they were saying as she went past.<p>

"So what time did you leave for the supermarket," she heard Brass ask the woman.

"A little after eight pm," the woman replied, "I decided to take the kids with me because she... she said she was feeling tired and I didn't want to leave some hyperactive children in her care when she wasn't feeling too well."

She walked into the main kitchen area where she saw Greg taking photos of the scene. David was kneeling down on the floor and as she got closer she saw the body of a woman approximately in her fifties, the top half of it anyway, the rest of the body was lying beneath a relatively small, but heavy refrigerator. One arm lay awkwardly askew above her body whilst the other looked like it had been pinned underneath the fridge.

"Lividity hasn't taken place yet," David observed, "meaning TOD was less than two hours ago, I can't give you an accurate liver temp," he pointed at the fridge lying on top of the victim, "that's not helping me very much."

"Seemed to be a struggle don't you think," Sara said looking around at the kitchen, she spotted a broken chair; "this looks like it might have broken during the fight."

"I thought the same as well," Greg said, walking over to where she stood, "but look over on the counter tops there," he pointed to the counters on the far side of the kitchen, "china plates, kitchen appliances, glasses, all of which are in perfect condition."

"Unless the fight was contained in this side of the kitchen alone."

"I've got a head injury," David exclaimed, "looks our victim took a blow to the back of her head."

"Maybe our killer then crushed her with a fridge, to make it look like an accident?" Greg spoke.

"I think I've got a bit of blood here," Sara called out, examining a few blood droplets which lined the walls near the sink, she swabbed the sample with phenolphthalein and tested with hydrogen peroxide, the sample turned pink, "yep, definitely got blood here."

"There's not much of it, unless it was just the one blow or the killer cleaned up."

"There's a definite blood pool here," David pointed out, "she definitely bled out a little from her wound." David examined her eyes, "burst blood vessels in the eyes, and implies that she also asphyxiated, probably due to crushing injuries."

"That implies she was alive when the fridge fell on her," Sara noted.

"Or, when the fridge was pushed on her," Greg pointed out.

"I spoke with the daughter," Brass walked in, "our victim's name is Claudia Blanchard, she's fifty-eight years old. Her daughter and two grandchildren came to visit for the weekend."

"None of them saw anything?" Sara asked.

"Nope, they all went grocery shopping and left the house around eight, returned about two hours later and that's when they found Claudia, crushed under her own fridge."

"So there's a two hour gap in which the victim could have been killed in. Anyone else at home?"

"Nope, her husband was killed in a car crash two years ago; she's lived alone since then." Two coroners wheeled in a gurney with a body bag attached to it into the kitchen.

"Urrm, guys," David said, "could I have a hand moving the fridge?" Sara and Greg nodded and bent down and lifted the fridge so it was upright, noting that it was pretty heavy, even with two of them lifting it up. David and the coroners gently placed the body in the body bag, zipping it up and wheeled the gurney out of the kitchen for transportation back to the lab.

Sara was about to go back to processing when something caught Greg's eye. "Hang on Sara," he called, "take a look at this." Sara walked around to where Greg was standing, not sure what he was talking about he prompted him to talk, "look how when we lifted the fridge upright, it stands away from the wall."

"Your point being?" Sara asked, still not on the same wavelength as Greg.

"Usually, you'd have your fridge propped up right against the wall, but here, it's about half a metre away from the wall. That suggests someone, our killer, could have moved the fridge forwards a bit, so they could stand behind it and push it on top of the victim."

"So you're reckoning a homicide?"

"You're not?"

"Well let's see whether the evidence suggests otherwise, I'm not gonna go and jump to conclusions quite yet. I'll go and have a snoop around the rest of the house, see if anyone tried to break in."

"Okay, I'll finish up in here then I'll help you with the perimeter."

* * *

><p>Across the other side of town, Ray and Nick pulled up to the entrance of the glamorous Emerald Eyes casino. As the two of them got out of the Denali, armed with their evidence collection kits, Detective Vega walked up to the two of them and filled them in on some initial details. "The victim is a Mr Lomar Valdez, twenty-eight years old, he's from LA and according to the receptionist at the hotel, he checked in two nights ago accompanied by his girlfriend. In Vegas for the week, I don't think Day Three involved appreciating Vegas' fine sidewalks."<p>

"Where's the girlfriend now?" Nick asked as the three of them headed towards the crime tape.

"We don't know," Vega replied, "but we're looking for her at the moment, she's a suspect."

"How so?" Ray asked.

"Guy dropped out of the window on the seventeenth floor, most likely that she was in the room with him."

"And you don't think he jumped?" Ray inquired.

"Well, windows in hotels in Vegas only open about six to eight inches," Nick talked, "prevents people from jumping out or falling out I guess, protects the casinos' ass. Not many people would choose to jump through the window."

The three of them ducked under the crime tape and saw one of the coroners making notes on the body. Nick saw that the victim was lying face down on the sidewalk directly below the window of their assumed hotel room. There was remarkably little blood on the sidewalk and the glass embedded into his wounds were noticeable.

"Who called it in?" Nick asked after pondering over the scene for a moment.

"Mandy Shoeturner, she's over there if you want to talk to her." Vega pointed at a young women sitting on a nearby bench who looked both in shock and agitated.

"Thanks," Nick walked over to the woman and sat down on the bench alongside her. "Mandy Shoeturner?" She nodded and swept back a part of her short, red hair from her face. "I'm Nick Stokes from the crime lab, I'm gonna need you to tell me how you came across the body."

Mandy swallowed hard and began talking hesitantly, "Well," she cleared her throat, "I was just walking down the street, I was heading to my friends' apartment, she lives just a couple of blocks away." She cleared her throat again, "I was just walking past the Emerald Eyes, when I heard... glass shattering... from above. I thought at first someone was being shot out until I heard a dull thud and I... I called it in afterwards."

"Okay Mandy, you said you heard glass shattering and a thud, did you hear anything else at all?"

"Just a few other people shouting to call nine-one-one, which I did but no... nothing else."

"Okay and what time was this?"

"Midnight, give or take fifteen minutes."

"Okay, thanks very much for your time." Nick wandered back to where Ray was speaking to the coroner. He saw that Nick was walking up to him and cut his conversation short to share information with him. "I reckon our guy was dead before he got tossed out that window."

"I was just about to say the same thing," Ray told him, "the coroner checked his liver temp and it came up as ninety three. He's been dead at least three to four hours."

"That would put his TOD at, around nine thirty pm Friday," Nick replied checking his watch, "two and a half hours before the body hit the sidewalk."

"I did recall there was remarkably little blood for a body which has gone splat."

"Yep, and the eyewitness told me something interesting. A guy being falling through a window to a seventeen storey drop and he doesn't scream or shout out?"

"It looks like someone tried to cover up a murder, to make it look like a suicide, but to me, they haven't done a very good job of it."

"Right, and I reckon our primary crime scene is up on the seventeenth floor."

* * *

><p>"Could you get us some surveillance footage of all the elevators and the corridor of the seventeenth floor please?" Ray asked a member of the hotel staff politely who nodded saying that they were already being sent back to the lab. The staff member led them to room seventeen-thirty-five and opened the door for them with the key card. "Thanks," Ray muttered to him as he headed back to the reception.<p>

The two CSIs changed pulled on their latex gloves and stepped into the hotel room, similar to many they had processed before generally containing a TV, a king-sized bed, an en-suite and the minibar which looked like it hadn't been touched. The room itself was surprisingly tidy, Ray noted. Other than the smashed window on the far side, there was nothing to suggest that there had been a struggle in the room. There were various items of clothing strewn over the place; a suitcase lay open on the side of the bed, however the sheets were askew suggesting that room service hadn't visited recently. The bathroom was immaculate and showed no signs of anyone actually being present. The only other things which looked out of place were an empty beer bottle which sat on the bedside table and various chip and candy wrappers which were dotted around the floor.

"Well, I'm willing to rule out a struggle," Nick said, looking around the room with his flashlight, "furniture closest to the window looks undisturbed, bedside lamp intact, weapons of opportunity such as TV remote, lamp don't show any signs of blood or damage to them."

"Killer could have cleaned them down," Ray pointed out, "although the coroner hasn't reported any blunt force injuries on the body thus far."

Nick opened the drawer by the bedside cabinet and photographed the contents, "I got a gun in the drawer." He unloaded the gun and emptied the chamber, "this gun hasn't been fired, I have all bullets accounted for."

"And there weren't any GSWs on the body."

The pair of them wandered around the room, checking through drawers, in the suitcases, checked the bathroom and the wardrobes. "Now either this couple were too lazy to put their clothes away," Nick began commenting on the clothes that littered the room, "or more likely, indulging in some Las Vegas culture. Hey Ray, can you kill the lights please." Ray switched off the lights and Nick began running the ALS on the bed sheets, remarking, "positive for semen."

"Hardly a surprise," Ray picked up a sexy looking black lace bra and smiled at Nick, "I don't think this is Lomar Valdez's type of clothing."

"Not to wear at least," Nick snorted. The two of them continued to process, mostly in silence except for the moment when they photographed something out of place and bagged it. "Okay," Nick said, "I bagged the gun, the TV remote, the lamp, the beer bottle and some of the clothing."

"I'll bring along the rest of the clothing and the sheets," Ray replied, "I've already scanned for blood and semen in the bathroom, nothing."

"Okay, well we also need to go and collect as many fragments of glass from that window as possible. All of that is evidence too."

"I suppose I'll go down and do that," Ray sighed to which Nick gave him a sheepish grin. "I'll see you back at the lab then." Ray turned to leave the room where something instantly caught his eye, something they hadn't noticed as they entered the room, "Hey Nick," come and take a look at this trash can. Nick stood up and walked over to where Ray was pointing at.

"It's empty," Nick noted.

"Yes, judging by the mess on the floor, I'm willing to bet someone cleaned up, and I don't think it was room service."

"Hey, notice there's not plastic lining either, the trash cans I saw at reception all had plastic lining, how much would you bet that all the rooms in the hotel also lined?"

"Well, I've got some glass to clean up; you better find that trash quick before the garbage vans arrive." Ray winked at Nick.

"Whoa, easy big guy!" Nick laughed, "I did dumpster diving only a fortnight ago. You know, as assistant supervisor I'm relieving you from glass collection duty. Have fun!"

"I don't think you should let your power get to your head and this place is huge, I can't search through them all on my own."

"Don't worry; I'll call in some help."

"Isn't everyone else on a case?"

"Yes," Nick winked, "but I hear Hodges is on field rotation."

* * *

><p>Sara heard a cell phone chirp and reached for her own only to find it was not hers ringing. She heard Brass answer the phone and snippets of his conversation as she processed the rest of the house. So far, they had found almost nothing outside the kitchen to suggest foul play but on the other hand there was nothing in the kitchen which pointed to a particular suspect. They hadn't yet collected a fingerprint, not a single one. She hoped that when they eventually got the fridge into the lab they might find something.<p>

"Sara," she heard Brass call her name and saw him walk towards her, "err, I need to leave now, I'm being called in about matters concerning last week so I'll be passing this case onto Detective Monaghan from Days."

Sara was taken aback a bit by the news, she couldn't remember a time recently when Brass had been pulled off a case but she also knew that last week's bombings had taken a big toll on the homicide detective. "Oh okay, well we'll let him know about any leads we get and get him up to speed with things."

"Cool, well I'll see you on another assignment, I think they mentioned that autopsy is almost done as well," Brass flashed her a rare smile and made his way out the house. Just as he was out the door frame he shouted back, "oh and by the way, I know Monaghan's a bit on the butch side, but she easily takes offense to things."

Sara couldn't help but laugh to herself at her mistake although then again she was not to blame. She barely knew any of the Dayshift CSIs let alone the detectives. Having sifted through the house for almost five hours now, Sara knew it was time to call it a day at the scene and start processing what they'd collected. She walked through the house and into the kitchen where she found Greg sat on the chair eating an apple.

"Greg!" she said with concern, "you know we have to replace that."

"Relax Sara, I already processed it," he joked a smirk appearing on his face, "and yes I do know I'll need to replace it."

"Good, now please tell me you got something good. I've hardly got anything, no sign of forced entry but I managed to get a faint shoe impression from the back yard. I'm pretty sure Claudia Blanchard doesn't have size twelve feet."

"Well I can't say I've got a lot either. Small patch of blood there," he pointed towards a patch which was close to the puddle of blood they saw earlier, "I tested everything for blood, rolling pins, breadboards, saucepans etc. I even put luminal on the hilts of the knives. You ready for something weird?" Sara nodded as Greg picked up an evidence bag containing a sharp knife, "I found blood on this knife."

"But there was no sharp force trauma?"

"Yeah exactly, and I even tested it for type of species and it's definitely human blood."

"Are we looking at another victim do you reckon?"

"No idea but I can guarantee there aren't any more DBs in this place. Smells too fresh. I think our only hope lies with that fridge."

Sara held up a small evidence bag and jokingly attempted to put it over the fridge, "I think we're going to need a bigger bag," she smiled.

"Never mind a bag," he pointed out the windows to their Denali, "I think we're gonna need a bigger truck!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The Emerald Eyes Casino is a fictional casino, just like the Tangiers/Rampart/Monaco etc. in the series.**

**That is the end of Part 1 of the story, the second part will be up sometime tomorrow. Feel free to tell me what you thought of it and I hope you enjoyed the story and stay tuned for the rest of it! :)**


	2. Part 2 of 4

"Urrm... Earth to David," Sara snapped her fingers awaking David from his vacant expression.

"Oh, hello Sara," David said, blinking as he realised Sara was standing there awaiting autopsy results, "you're here for Miss Blanchard I believe."

"I certainly am," she replied as David led them over to the slab furthest from the door to where Claudia Blanchard lay.

"Miss Blanchard was a particularly tough case to crack, pun not intended." David giggled a little and Sara tried her best not to look too annoyed or impatient, "anyway I noted a small wound to the back of the skull, which led to an acute subdural haematoma."

"So you're saying COD was blunt force trauma?"

"Not exactly," David murmured, "the wound was not immediately fatal and it's likely the victim would have gone into unconsciousness shortly afterwards.

"So what exactly was cause of death?" Sara inquired.

"COD was asphyxiation due to massive crushing injuries; most of her ribs were crushed as well as the radius and the ulna in her left arm. I'd say it was likely she was still alive when that fridge fell due to the burst blood vessels in her eyes. Well, I presume your culprit is the fridge which prevented her lungs from expanding meaning she couldn't breathe properly..."

"Yes, I know the mechanisms of crush asphyxia," Sara intervened, "what else can you tell me about the body."

"Take a look at her liver," David pointed to a bowl to which Sara saw lay Claudia Blanchard's liver.

"There's lots of little... what look to be tumours on it," Sara observed. "Looks like she'd developed liver cancer."

"Well this is liver cancer in its early form, as far as I know it hasn't spread to other parts of the body. I also found tar in her lungs which suggests she was a frequent smoker."

"Well that's one way to beat cancer, die before it kills you."

"I extracted some skin from under her fingernails and sent them to DNA. I couldn't find any trace in the head wound or in her hair so I can't tell you what hit her or what she hit."

"Okay then," Sara grimaced, knowing that they were going to have to rely on the fridge in order to determine who killed Claudia Blanchard, "thanks for the information, I've got to go process a fridge..."

"Hold on a minute Sara," David called to her as she began walking out of the room, "I've got one more thing to show you." Sara turned back and David lifted the cloth to reveal the victim's left hand. Sara noticed that one of her fingers was missing.

"Where's her index finger?"

"Where, I cannot tell you that but the hand came to me bandaged, she must have lost it in a recent accident but it definitely occurred long before death."

"Did you determine how long before?"

"I could, but it's probably easier to probe through any recent ambulance call-outs or if she made any trips to the ER, not that it'll help you find her killer."

"Well maybe she was attacked? Then the killer came to finish her off."

"Possibly but I don't remember an attack where the perp _only_ cuts the victim's finger off."

Sara pondered for a moment, what David had said was true but she had a gut feeling that there were plenty of tell-tale signs that Claudia Blanchard's death was imminent and they could trace those back to a killer. "That's true," she responded eventually, "I'll go and see if Selma's got a hit in DNA, I'm hoping it might prove my theory correct."

* * *

><p>Over the past two and a half years that Catherine had been supervisor, Brass had been in her office many times before, whether it be for a meeting relating to a case, or an employee or even just for a casual chat during their breaks. Despite this, he had never really taken her office in, when Grissom had been supervisor, he'd always been secretly fascinated by the butterflies, or the aphids or the pickled salamander which Grissom would put on display.<p>

Here, he began noticing aspects of Catherine which came out in the various ways she'd decorated the room, mainly consisting of photos and memories as well as several awards she'd earned through her career, the latest award, a small plate of gold designated to her for her leadership skills in the previous week's bomb attacks. Brass took a closer look at the photos which lined the office and found that it represented a timeline of key events in her life. She had one taken when she was younger with her mother and next to that was a high school photo followed by a photo with a number of her friends, presumably when she was a dancer.

He glanced over a few years, consisting of photos of her marriage to Eddie, Lindsey's birth, becoming assistant supervisor and one of the team taken a few years back. He moved on to another picture of Lindsey, now a lot older and then next to that was one of her and Warrick.

Warrick. He felt his stomach flip uncomfortably. Although he tended to keep his feelings to himself, there was no denying that he still felt guilt and remorse for the death of one of his good friends. He often had nightmares, some of just Warrick begging for protection, others of McKeen taking out the whole team. _Don't ever forget how lucky you are_. Those were the words which haunted him every night, the words he heard in his head most times he entered a crime scene, the words that he would regret for the rest of his life...

"Jim," Brass heard a voice speak from behind him, he looked up and saw it was Catherine, carrying a stash of paperwork and portraying a sense of calmness.

"Oh hey Catherine," Brass replied, "I'm not intruding am I?"

"No, it's fine, that's why I always leave my office unlocked. Although I probably should, seeing as I'm sure I caught Hodges snooping around my bonus recommendations not too long ago."

Brass let out a small laugh. Catherine dumped the paperwork on her desk and gestured for Brass to take a seat in front of her. She began the conversation, "so how are you doing today?"

"Bit better actually. Headache's gone and only my left ear appears to be ringing still at the moment." Truth be told he was still a bit shaken up by last week's events. It was bad enough being caught up in the second explosion but it hurt just as more seeing Larry Durman lying in the hospital bed, completely immobile, covered in burns and practically knocking on Death's front door. He had it on his mind that it could have been him, it could have been him on that hospital bed.

"Your doctor advised you not to come in today didn't he," Catherine remarked.

Brass grimaced a little as he didn't really want to admit to going against his doctor and the department's advice but he knew he would be sent home anyway, "Mmm, yes, but I figured that Stokes has been back at work for a few days now and he's holding up alright."

"Yes but don't forget you got more of the brunt of the explosion, and without meaning to sound rude, he's younger and more... fitter than you are."

Brass laughed to himself as she said this, it was true. He was sixty years old now and had put on a bit of a gut recently which he often joked about with his colleagues, "I guess but... I... I've sorta got a bit of a hunger to go back into the field again. I mean it's the first time in a while, about three months, I've gotten to chase a suspect down, I'm still not happy you beat me to that loan shark guy a couple of weeks ago..."

"Okay I was desperate to catch that guy and I saw him and you guys hadn't yet..."

"There's no need to make excuses Catherine," he chuckled, "just don't do it again. But anyway, when I was driving round Vegas, sirens blaring, lights flashing, I felt young again. I guess that's partly down to me being stuck in an interrogation room most of the year but I felt like I wanted to get back out there as soon as possible, get a few scumbags off the street and I wasn't getting that vibe being stuck at home on paid leave."

"I get you, I do, it seems whenever I'm on the job I wanna be at home and whenever I'm at home I wanna be out bustin' crack dealers and all of that crowd."

"Yeah," that was all he could reply with for now. There was a momentary awkward silence before Brass decided to change the conversation, "so what you working on there?" he asked, indicating to the paperwork she had in front of her.

"Evaluations, and I don't mean the little quips I put at the end of every report, I'm talking the big chunky annual ones," Catherine said putting her pen in her mouth to think, "Grissom always hated this part of the job," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "but secretly I love writing up about my co-workers."

"And you get a nice trip down memory lane too."

"Certainly. I've done Ray and Greg's so far and I'm half way through Sara's now, I got to get hers and Nick's done by the end of shift, I want to hand them out tonight."

"Do they know about them?"

"Nope, if you know you're being watching you know you're not working in a familiar environment, a bit of a nice surprise for the end of shift." She paused for a moment and looked back up and faced Brass, "you know, you should probably go home, get some rest."

"Come on Cath, I've had plenty of rest."

"No as I'm not your boss, I can't physically send you home, but as your friend, if your ear's still ringing, I don't think you're ready to be back yet."

"Yeah," Brass nodded acceptingly, "yeah you're probably right. I've booked in to see my doctor anyway, about the ear."

Catherine reached out and rubbed his arm comfortingly, "you go and have some rest now." She smirked to herself, confessing, "you know I've lost count how many times I've said that in the past month."

Brass said nothing but smiled back before getting up and making his way back to PD to collect his stuff and head home. He was just leaving the crime lab when suddenly his phone began ringing, perplexed at who could be calling now he'd clocked out, he answered it.

"Brass."

"Hey it's me," he heard a female voice, relatively high pitched with a strong Irish accent on the other end.

"Hello, me," Brass replied sarcastically.

"It's Monaghan," the voice replied distressed, "can you tell your CSIs working the Blanchard Case that I'm gonna be a bit late. My car won't start."

Brass smirked a little at Monaghan's misfortune; he'd met her a few times and could probably best describe her as irritating, "okay I'll let them know. Drive safely."

* * *

><p>"Eurgh! Yuk! This isn't work, this is punishment," Hodges moaned as he sifted through piles of trash in a dumpster behind the Emerald Eyes casino.<p>

"Quit your whinging Hodges," Ray said to him as he searched around in an adjacent dumpster, "just be thankful this isn't your everyday job."

Hodges replied with no more but another moan as he searched through cans, clothes, bottles, used condoms and leftover food. Whilst the top layers were mostly fresh, the trash was only picked up once a week meaning that the older leftovers had decomposed quickly into 'trash soup.' Hodges lifted up an old paper takeout bag and grimaced, "oh great," Hodges gagged, quickly tossing the half decomposed bird to one side and digging deeper in to the pile, "can you get me one of those Hazmat showers? I think I need a full body decontamination."

"Hey Hodges, I think I got something!" Ray called out and Hodges quickly seized the opportunity to leap out of dumpster and go and stand away from the trash in a relative proximity to Ray, who held up a clear plastic bag containing an assortment of items, "whoever cleaned up was stupid enough to leave it all contained in the plastic liner."

"You reckon that came from the same room that the vic died in?"

Ray took out an empty bottle of pills and read the label, "well these diazepam pills are prescribed to Mr Lomar Valdez. This looks like it's our missing trash."

With surprising athletic ability, Ray jumped out of the dumpster and bagged the plastic lining containing the contents of room seventeen-thirty-five. "Is that all we need from here, because I'm not sifting through any more trash."

"I think we're done here," Ray responded, "but because I'm nice, I'll let you use the showers first."

"Good, because I think I'd rather take a bath in Lake Mead than wait any longer for one."

Ray's phone began chiming and he answered it promptly, "Langston."

"Hey Ray, it's Nick," he heard his colleague's voice on the receiver end of the phone, "Vega managed to get an ID on the vic's girlfriend, Lorena Melua, we tracked her credit cards and she's currently at the Tangiers hotel. Vega and I are on the way to bring her in."

"Okay then," Ray responded, "I found the contents of the empty trash can we believe is from the crime scene, I'll take it back to the lab and start processing it now."

"Okay good, but if it's got trash from every day of this week with it, that could have been dumped at any time."

Well, it was pretty near the top of the pile, suggesting it was quite new but I'll have a look into it anyway."

"Cool, I'll speak with ya later."

* * *

><p>Nick and Vega casually walked into the foyer of the Tangiers and up to one of the members of security. Having spoken to the casino before venturing in, they knew who they were after and the security member pointed them over to a Blackjack table where a game was mid-session. They were led over to the table and the dealer pointed at a young, Hispanic woman who was piling up numerous chips for her roster.<p>

Vega tapped her on the shoulder and said, "excuse me Miss, you're gonna have to come with us."

The woman, Lorena Melua rolled her eyes at the detective, complaining, "well this better be important, I'm on a winning streak! Three twenty-ones in a row!"

"Miss Melua," Nick spoke up, "we need to talk to you regarding your boyfriend, Lomar Valdez."

"Oh, what kind of trouble has he gotten himself into this time," Lorena whined.

"The kind where he stops breathing."

* * *

><p>"Alright Miss Melua, we need to ask you about your whereabouts for this evening," Vega spoke to Lorena Melua from across the table in the interrogation room.<p>

"I was on a girl's night out," she answered bluntly, blinking with astonishment. Nick looked at her suspiciously, she'd taken the news of her boyfriend's death surprisingly well, there had been a few tears but other than that, she had remained stubborn about admitting any involvement with the incident. She continued, "we came to Vegas for a fun week out, us and two other couples. First night we had a girly night out and they had a mens' evening and last night it was couples. Tonight we went back to girls and guys evening."

"So where were your gals Miss Melua?" Nick inquired. She gave him a cold stare which he returned.

"Urm... had a minor disagreement earlier on, they wanted to go clubbing and I wanted to hit the Strip, try out my luck."

"So they can't confirm your alibi then," Vega pointed out. "Particularly between the hours of nine and midnight."

"No I was out with them at ten, we just then parted ways and I've been at the Tangiers all night, go and ask the guys there."

"Oh don't worry," Nick spoke up, "we will, in fact we have one of our lab techs analysing video surveillance of the Emerald Eyes Hotel right now, so we'll know whether you're lying or not."

"Hold on? You think I killed my husband?" She asked them bewildered, the two of them nodded.

"Well, you're case isn't looking very good. I mean we got some data of when your room was activated by the cards. It says that it was opened twice within ten minutes shortly before he died around nine-thirty, ten pm. Once around half eleven and it was also used at around midnight, shortly before your boyfriend's body went through the window."

"Also we have evidence that someone tidied up the crime," Vega spoke up, Nick noticed Lorena's eyes begin to widen with fear and dread, "we found the trash from your room in a dumpster, it contained your boyfriend's diazepam pills and seeing as you're the on..."

"I'm not the only one who has access to the room," she hastily interrupted, "urrm... the hotel gave us two cards and we urrm... let each other use our cards."

"And why would you do that?" Vega asked curiously.

Lorena looked around to see if anyone was watching and slowly began explaining, "because on couples night we like to urrm... swap... partners."

Nick and Vega looked at each other with an awkward look on their face, her alibi was flimsy at the best but then again they didn't have anything to hold her on.

"Okay Miss Melua, you're free to go, for now but don't go far, we're only just beginning our investigation."

* * *

><p>"Hey Greg!" Sara called out to her colleague who was stood outside DNA, "I'm gonna be gone for a short while, our new Detective is having trouble getting off the driveway."<p>

The two of them smirked at each other having heard negative comments about the majority of dayshift staff, "Okay then I'll go and get a head start at processing the fridge then."

The two of them parted ways but before Greg could get to the garage he was stopped by Selma.

"Sanders!" She barked causing him to jump, "I got a hit in the skin found under fridge-girl's fingernails."

"Okay, but she's not a girl, she's a fifty-eight year old woman," Greg reminded her.

"Fifty-eight, eighteen, not much different to me," Selma shrugged and showed Greg the hit which CODIS had come up with, "Amy Griffin, thirty years old, no record but she's a paramedic at Desert Palms."

"Okay, I'll have her brought in but I can't see someone trained to save lives willingly place someone under a fridge."

"True, but take a look at her past work evaluations." Greg looked down the list and found something which maybe a paramedic could kill for.

"So, she has a motive, maybe we could get her after all."

* * *

><p>"Look Mr Sanders, you're wasting your time here." Amy Griffin stared at Greg from across the table in the interrogation room. Her posture and tone of voice suggested she was confident, but at the same time, she didn't appear to be cocky, like many suspects they had brought in.<p>

Ignoring the fact that she somehow knew his name, Greg told her firmly, "just explain to me what your skin's doing under the fingernails of Claudia Blanchard."

She swept aside part of her jet black hair, revealing what looked like to be a severe scratch on her right cheek, "I got called out Thursday evening, some woman cut her finger off chopping up onions. Who the hell chops up onions at one in the morning?" She began raising her voice, "I arrive at the scene, and clear her up and then suddenly she starts swiping at me screaming "you killed my husband, you broke apart my family." She put on a mock elderly voice and began swiping away at the air. Greg couldn't help but start laughing at her impersonation. _Pull yourself together, Greg_, _she's a suspect in a muder inquiry_, his thoughts told him.

"Well it says here, she filed a complaint against you two years ago," Greg composed himself sombrely, "and apparently you were disciplined because of it."

"If by disciplined you mean, moved to working nights, then yes. Though I'm partly thankful for it," she smiled at Greg and put on a sweet tone, "because all the cute guys work nights."

Greg felt himself starting to feel a bit uncomfortable and tried to bring it back to the case, "the complaint was for failing to save her husband from his car crash back in o-nine."

"It was a four-car pile up! As a paramedic, part of the job is prioritising lives at risk, and I'm sorry I had to choose saving the two children over her sixty year old husband, I really am but it's part of the job. You know, people like us, you, me, we put ourselves in harm's way everyday single day, and sometimes we often have to pay the price for doing what we feel is the right thing. Other people will never understand that."

Greg simply found himself nodding along to what the paramedic said, yet at the same time feeling an eerie sense of déjà vu from hearing those words. He sighed and blinked realising that he'd been staring into her emerald eyes the entire time she had been talking. _Snap out of it_, he told himself mentally.

"You're free to go," was all that he could say. Amy smiled at him sweetly again and lifted herself graciously from her chair and began heading for the door.

As she got to the door, she turned back to face him and said, "it was nice to meet you again, Mr Sanders. I'm glad you are well." Then she was escorted out the building by the overseeing officer at the door.

Greg sighed and buried his head in his hands, praying that someone from Internal Affairs hadn't been overseeing the interrogation. _Nice to meet me again? How does she know me?_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The events which Catherine and Brass are referring to are from the previous story, Rush Hour.**

**Hope you enjoyed Part 2 of the story, Part 3 should be up sometime tomorrow. Please feel free to review and give me your feedback! Thanks for reading! :)**


	3. Part 3 of 4

"Case number: one, zero, zero, zero, two, five, eight, five," Doc Robbins began talking into the audio recorder having concluded his autopsy, "Name of deceased: Lomar Carlos Valdez. Medical Examiner: Albert Robbins. Employee Number: two, two, eight, three, six, nine. Date of post-mortem examination: o-seven, o-nine, eleven." It was the same routine over and over again; in fact he'd learnt the routine by heart within just three autopsies. It was one of the most tedious aspects of the jobs but it was necessary when there were no CSIs to relay the information to.

"Preliminary external examination: trace fibres found in nasal passages, materials forwarded to trace. Extensive lacerations and wounds embedded by glass, histopathic analysis of the tissue reveals that mast cells have not degranulated, which implies these wounds occurred post-mortem. No visible wounds elsewhere on the body, nor were there any defensive wounds. Lubricant found on the genitals implies that he was involved in recent sexual activity."

Doc Robbins then moved across the morgue to where his notes from the internal examination lay. He flicked through a few pages until he came to his last entry and began speaking into the recorder again: "Internally, all organs intact, healthy and in the correct place. Likewise, no haematomas or haemorrhaging found in the brain..." he was suddenly cut off by someone entering the morgue. He switched off the recorder and growled frustratingly, "David, what have I told you before about interrupting autopsy recordings."

"Sorry Doc," David responded with a terrified look on his face, speaking hurriedly, "I just came in to find my lunch I don't know if you've seen it but if you do could you..."

"Yes, you left it in one of the freezers, I placed it on your desk," Doc Robbins replied calmly.

"Thanks boss," he smiled sheepishly and scuttled out of the morgue in search for his lunch.

Doc Robbins muttered to himself disapprovingly and went back to recording his findings. "Stomach contents revealed to contain fries, from a fast food restaurant, beer and trace amounts of red wine. Blood was withdrawn from the heart, preliminary toxicology results came up negative, a sample has been sent to tox for full analysis. Partial pressure within the blood exceeded fifty millimetres HG, implying that the victim suffered type two respiratory failure leading to hypoxaemia and eventual death."

Doc Robbins shut his notes and gave his final verdict, "TOD: o-seven, o-eight, eleven, around twenty-two hundred hours. COD: type two respiratory failure due to unknown circumstances, pending full toxicology results. Albert Robbins, M.E., employee number: two, two, eight, three, six, nine."

He switched off the recorder and signed his report made following the autopsy. With a bit of effort he was able to place the body in one of the cooling vaults and placed a toe tag on the big toe of the victim. With a small grunt, he slammed the drawer into the vault and shut the door, sealing Lomar Valdez into his temporary casket.

* * *

><p>"Hey Archie, I got your page," Nick told the AV tech as he entered into his lab. "What have you got to show me?"<p>

"Well I can prove that your victim's girlfriend is a liar," Archie replied rewinding footage of the seventeenth floor, "luckily for us, room seventeen-thirty-five happens to be right in the pathway of this camera. Right, at nine sixteen pm, Lomar Valdez enters the room. Nine minutes later at nine twenty-five, the girlfriend, Lorena Melua enters the room."

"Well she was telling the truth about one thing," Nick remarked, "she'd ditched her BFFs."

"Right. Around sixteen minutes later at nine forty-one, she's seen leaving the room again."

"Okay, well the victim died at around nine thirty, possibly ten so we definitely have her in the room around the time that the murder was committed."

"I don't think she was alone either, have a look at this." Archie fast forwarded the footage to eleven twenty-seven pm, "here we see Lorena Melua goes back to the room. Now she leaves the room two minutes later looking seriously flustered." The figure on the footage clearly looked agitated and distressed as she stormed along the corridor. "Have a look at the footage of her in the elevator shortly afterwards," he switched the screen to show Lorena Melua pacing around in the elevator and looking to be in tears.

"She looks awfully distressed for someone who knows they've just killed their boyfriend," Nick commented.

"Or she may know where the cameras are and acting up to them," Archie correctly pointed out, "or maybe she could be regretting her decision. But I have one last thing to show you, have a look around half an hour later at two minutes past midnight." Archie changed the screen back to the surveillance of the seventeenth floor corridor. "Here." He points to a second figure who is seen escorting Lorena back to the room where Lomar Valdez lies dead.

"That makes sense," Nick nodded, "I doubt Lorena would be able to throw the body out the window on her own. We've also got him for an accessory to covering up a murder. We'll bring in Lorena and see if she's willing to rat out her accomplice. Thanks Archie!"

"No problem at all, it's what I get paid to do," Archie chuckled as Nick left to answer a page he'd received from Ray.

On the way to the layout room, he was ambushed by a now clean and lavender-smelling Hodges. "Stokes, I identified the fibres found in the victim's nose."

Nick looked at him confused, "Fibres?"

"Don't tell me you haven't read the autopsy report," Hodges replied sardonically. Nick realised that he hadn't and mentally made sure he read it quickly as he hated being left behind on a case, "so the fibres I found came from a sheep, my guess, wool from a pillow."

"Smothered by a pillow?"

"I knew you hadn't read the report," he replied snidely as he retreated back into the trace lab.

* * *

><p>Nick walked into the layout room to find Ray prying over certain bits of evidence found from the dumpster of the Emerald Eyes casino, "Hey have you seen the autopsy report for Lomar Valdez anywhere?"<p>

"I have," Ray replied, "I read it and filed it away as protocol."

"Damn it," Nick muttered, "okay tell me how he died."

"The report said respiratory failure due to unknown circumstances, pending full toxicology panel."

"Speaking of which," Henry smiled to himself as he handed the results over to Nick, "I have them right here."

Nick looked at the results given to him, "Blood alcohol, point two, six. Diazepam levels are through the roof."

"Diazepam plus alcohol equals goodnight Mr Valdez," Henry commented.

"Hey Ray, didn't you say you found an empty tub of diazepam from the dumpster?"

"I did," Ray looked up at him for the first time, "I got some prints off it and gave it to Mandy to process. I also found a used condom which is currently in DNA. Selma confirmed that the bottle of beer found on the bedside table was consumed by the victim so it looks like someone might have spiked his drink."

"James Bond style," Henry said, in a manner which made him sound like he was trying to be cool which prompted an awkward silence in the room, "sorry," he muttered and quickly hurried out the room.

"So what else did you find, Raymundo?"

"Didn't get anything on his clothes, a bunch of old wrappers which came back with nothing, but I did find this which seemed suspicious," Ray held up what looked to be a pebble of some sort, "I found trace on the underside of it which I sent to Hodges, but I'm also gonna fume this for prints along with the plastic lining, I think our killer may have used this grind up the diazepam to put in the beer."

"Good job Raymundo," Nick replied.

"Please, don't call me that," Ray muttered back.

"Aww, I quite like it," Nick laughed, Ray appeared not to share the same enthusiasm, "what's the matter Ray? Something doesn't look too right with you this week."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Ray protested, "I've just got a bit of a... stomach ache."

"Well take it easy big guy. Anyway, this is looking to be an easy slam-dunk, we got the girlfriend and one other on surveillance heading into the room around the time of death and the time the body got chucked out the window."

"And you're bringing them in?"

"Well, Vega's gone to get her, we're hoping we can make a deal to get the other guy but we might as well wait until we get all the results back to speak to her."

"Yeah, she's probably lawyered up and there's nothing more satisfying than seeing their defence attorneys crumble."

Ray then took the lining and the pebble-like feature and placed them the fume cupboard, leaving them to try and bring up any prints he could pass on to Mandy. Nick heard his phone ringing and answered it to find out that Vega had found something to indict the girlfriend even more.

"Hey Nick," he spoke down the phone, "yesterday morning, your victim, Lomar Valdez took out a five hundred K life insurance policy on himself."

"Let me guess, the girlfriend is the recipient in the event that her dearly beloved dies?"

"Well how did you know that?" Vega replied sarcastically, "anyway, I've got her in the back of the car, she's not saying anything about her little helper but I think with a bit of persuasion we can get him in as well."

"Okay, well we're gonna wait a little until some of the evidence is interpreted before we speak to her, the lab's been a little backlogged today."

"No problem, call when you're ready to speak to her."

* * *

><p>Sara pulled up to a large apartment complex in North Las Vegas to the address which Detective Monaghan had provided her. She immediately saw a figure who looked to be the detective in distress begin running towards the Denali, obviously recognising that the Crime scene use them. Sara noted she was young, very young for a detective; she couldn't have been any older than twenty-five. Her hair was long, brown and straight and she looked to be a very attractive person, relatively skinny with a very distinctive bosom. Her first impression was that maybe this detective had managed to charm herself into the police force.<p>

When she got closer, Sara wound down the window and began talking to the woman, "are you Detective Monaghan?" The woman nodded frantically, trying to catch her breath having run to the vehicle as quickly as possible, "I'm Sara Side, and I'm here to rescue you. Hop in."

Detective Monaghan quickly rushed round to the passenger's side and quickly got in; she extended her hand out to Sara to introduce herself properly, "Kayleigh Monaghan, nice to meet you Sara." There was a small awkward pause between the two of them until Monaghan spoke up excitingly, "I thought to make up for you having to come all the way out here, I did some small background research into your victim, her husband was killed in a car crash two years ago..."

"Yeah we know about that," Sara said, trying not to seem too rude but deep down she knew that her low tolerance towards young, chatty people wasn't going to portray a friendly first impression.

"Okay, well did you know that she filed two police reports regarding break-ins at her home?" Monaghan quickly piped up.

Sara suddenly pulled over to the side of the road and burst out with, "tell me more."

"Okay," Monaghan quickly reached into her case and pulled out a few notes regarding the break-ins. "The first incident occurred on Friday, June twenty-fourth, she reported that someone had knocked over a vase and had stolen a silver broach. Perpetrator was never apprehended."

"Okay and what about the second incident?"

"The second incident occurred on Friday, July first and this time she reported a pair of earrings and her dead husband's watch were stolen. Police found these items in a pawn shop and described the person who sold them as a young kid, approximately eighteen years old, short brown hair, scruffy clothes."

"Well our victim died on Friday night, maybe our home invader came back to take something else, but Claudia Blanchard got in the way. Maybe it was a crime of opportunity? Where did Claudia say she was on the previous two Fridays?"

"She said she'd do her weekend grocery shop on a Friday evening," Monaghan read from her notes.

"But this Friday, her daughter and grandchildren did that instead. We need to go back to the house, initially I didn't find anything around the perimeter but I don't know I may have missed something," she pulled out her phone and began dialling a number. The person on the other end picked it up on the second ring, "Greg, it's Sara; I'm going back to the scene on a hunch. You got anything from the paramedic?"

"She claimed the victim swiped at her when she responded to a call out," Greg told her, "apparently the victim had cut her own finger off. That explains the blood on the knife and the trace amount of spatter on one of the counters."

"Okay, what about the fridge?"

"Quite a few prints both on top, on the handle and behind the fridge. I'm particularly interested in the ones behind the thing. Oh and also there are a few dust voids on top of the fridge. Did we get any small boxes or possibly books at the scene?"

Sara thought back for a moment, "I don't recall there being any."

"Okay, I also had a look at the contents. The cherry flavoured yoghurt was tasty."

"Greg!" she screeched down the phone, "stop eating the evidence!"

"I'm only pulling your leg. It was pretty empty except for a few bits of veg at the bottom, but that was it."

"Okay, well I'll speak with you later." She hung up the phone, put the car into drive and headed towards the residence of Claudia Blanchard.

* * *

><p>Claudia Blanchard's house still hadn't been released by the time to two of them had got there. The daughter and her children had been put into a motel for the night and Sara could see that the sun was starting to rise now and they needed to get as much as possible before they got into a dispute with the relatives.<p>

"Okay, I checked all the doors, no signs of forced entry on any of them and I looked around back and I did manage to find a shoe impression," Sara told the detective, "but... I didn't check the windows."

Detective Monaghan followed the CSI as she put on her latex gloves and began wondering around and trying to pull up the windows in her reach. The first four she tried were either locked or didn't open far enough to allow anyone to crawl through. On her fifth attempt however, a window located near the back of the house opened easily enough so that even Nick would be able to fit through it. She let go of it satisfied and quickly withdrew her hand as it slammed down, almost severing her fingers.

"Snappy little sucker," Detective Monaghan noted.

Sara handed her a pair of latex gloves, "Could you put these on? I'm feeling if our intruder was caught unaware of the window, he may have left a piece of him behind."

Monaghan nodded and held up the window, allowing Sara to process the sill beneath it as well as the frame. She saw Sara extract a spray can from her kit, "so what you testing for?" She asked inquisitively.

"This is hydrogen peroxide. Usually I'd use luminal but the light conditions are unfavourable. Anyway, this stuff will begin foaming up when it makes contact with any blood, confirming its presence," she began spraying around the window frame although there was no reaction to be seen, "okay, so out guy was pretty careful with the window, I'll go and dust for fingerprints, you keep that window steady now."

Monaghan simply nodded as she watched Sara begin dusting away around the window-frame. "Sara," Monaghan said quietly as she continued collecting the prints, "I need to swap arms."

"Hold on a minute," Sara noted as she quickly collected four prints with some adhesive tape, "okay, you can drop it now."

With a huge sigh of relief, Monaghan let the window drop and winced as it slammed onto the windowsill, making a loud slamming noise. Sara gave her a look of concern mixed with one of mild disapproval. Monaghan knew herself that her skills as a detective were... satisfactory. Whilst she had excelled with knowing the law and understanding basic principles, she was let down by her reluctance to partake in the field and particularly when it came to chasing suspects down. She'd only been in the job for a year though so at least she was comforted by the fact there was plenty of room for improvement.

She followed Sara into the house and into the kitchen to which Sara was looking around. "What exactly are you looking for?" Monaghan asked innocently.

Sara turned to her and shrugged her shoulders, "I have no idea, but I have a strange feeling that we're missing something." Monaghan watched as Sara searched through cupboards, on the window, under the table and the cabinets until she found something she was looking for. "Well, what do we have here?" She reached behind a cabinet, the one adjacent to where the fridge had been placed and pulled out a photo of what looked to be Claudia Blanchard, carrying a baby in each arm.

"What are you hoping to prove with that?"

_God, she sure asks a lot of questions_, Sara thought to herself but she refrained from expressing her thoughts outside her head. "I'm sure it can prove something."

As the two of them left the scene to head back to the lab, Sara heard what looked like to be a small disruption between a woman and the uniformed officers standing outside their door.

"What do you mean I can't come in? It's my mother's house, no, it's _my_ house!" The daughter of the victim screamed at the officer.

"Ma'am, I'm gonna need you to step back, this is still a crime scene," Officer Mitchell calmly told her.

"I can't believe this..." she began screaming again but Monaghan intervened and cut her off.

"Mrs Blanchard..."

"Mrs Dorrin actually, Joanne Dorin," Joanna snapped back.

"Well Joanna, if you don't listen to this man I have no choice but to take you downtown and we wouldn't want to have to send your kids to child services," she reasoned with the furious woman who appeared to calm down a little under the threat of losing her children.

"I have a couple of questions for you, Joanna," Sara spoke to her softly; Joanna simply nodded in acknowledgement and took a quick breather, "are you aware that your mother's house was broken into twice in the past two weeks?"

Joanna's eyes widened with surprise and she began shaking her head, "no, she never mentioned anything about it. The only thing suspicious was that she... was moving her jewellery around."

"Where did she move it to?"

"She put it above... the fridge. But then she was moving it again before we left... I don't know where though." _Greg had said there was a dust void, shaped like a small box or a book, maybe it was a jewellery box, _Sara began thinking to herself.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Because," she said sadly, "I didn't think it was relevant."

"Mrs Dorrin, everything is relevant in a murder investigation."

* * *

><p>"Hey Nick," Mandy called out as he passed the fingerprints lab, "I finally got a hit with the prints on your bottle of diazepam."<p>

"Oh good, I was just on my way down to interrogation, what do you have?" Nick smiled at her cheekily.

"Two hits in AFIS. One was your victim which is understandable considering the pills are his," Mandy said, "but the other donor is the victim's girlfriend, Lorena Melua."

Nick smiled as she handed him the results of the prints, "Brilliant, Selma was also able to identify her DNA from the outside of the condom. We've got this case in the bag."

"You still want me to do the pebble and the bin lining?" Mandy required.

"Sure, the more evidence the better," Nick responded cheerfully as he walked down the corridor thinking they pretty much had this evidence in the bag. He heard his cell phone ring to which he answered it merrily, "Stokes."

"Hey Nick, it's Vega," his gruff voice sounded rather irritated on the other end. "We have a problem, the victim lawyered up."

"Nothing to worry about we've got plenty of evidence to convict..."

"She's saying she didn't commit the murder, she's saying her boyfriend committed suicide."

Nick couldn't believe what he was hearing, "what? What the hell is making you be so concerned about it, the evidence is implying that she done the deed and her friend helped her dispose of the body."

"Nick, listen." Vega barked, raising his voice, "she gave us a note. We've sent it for analysis, and it's authentic."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I 'stole' the line "**_**Snappy little sucker**_**" from the episode Chaos Theory where Catherine almost gets her hand shut in a garbage chute. I thought it would be rather relevant here. :P**

**The fourth and final part of the story will be up sometime tomorrow. Be sure to tell me what you think of this one! :)**


	4. Part 4 of 4

"I see you're after my job again," Mandy noted firmly as Sara sat by the computer, transfixed by the flashing screen as her windowsill prints scanned through AFIS.

"Sorry Mandy, you weren't around and I really needed these done quick," Sara said to her.

"Yeah well I can't help it if Stokes and Langston keep backlogging me with tonnes of prints from their scene," Mandy retorted, with an ugly look of disdain on her face, "Greg gave me a load of prints from your fridge vic. They all came back to Claudia Blanchard."

"All of them?" Sara asked, mortified.

"I'm afraid so," Mandy said sadly, handing Sara the results.

"Every new lead we get seems to push us further away from the truth," Sara replied. The screen started beeping as AFIS found a match from the prints lifted from the windowsill. Sara opened it, looking unhopeful at first but suddenly her eyes lit up as she acquired herself a new suspect. "Priors include breaking and entering as well as petty theft, this could be our guy!"

Without even looking to see Mandy's reaction, Sara quickly left the room and whipped out her cell phone, calling Detective Monaghan to bring a Mr Arnold Klaus into police custody.

* * *

><p>Arnold Klaus was a timid man from what Sara could make of his posture and facial expressions. He had thick brown hair, a fringe which covered his right eye and the eye which Sara could see made not contact with her at all. He looked skinny, as if he hadn't eaten in days and his clothes looked like they had last been changed in an even longer period of time.<p>

"Mr Klaus," Monaghan said cooly, "could you explain how your fingerprints ended up on the windowsill of Claudia Blanchard?"

"Mr Klaus, do not answer the question," the attorney seated on his left snapped back. Sara gave him a glare reminding herself on how much she loathed people like him.

"Okay, you see, Mrs Blanchard has been burgled twice in the past fortnight. Once, three Fridays ago, and a second time, two Fridays ago. Surveillance in a pawn shop on Charleston captured you pawning off the earrings and the watch of Mrs Blanchard's dead husband which you stole from her house."

"Some guy gave me those to pawn off, said I could keep half of what they were worth," Klaus replied.

"And then your fingerprints magically appear on her windowsill?" Sara asked sardonically. "Show us your shoes please."

"Don't do anything Mr Klaus," his attorney droned, "you need a warran..."

"I got one," Sara interrupted, casually passing the warrant across the table into the attorney's hands, "now show us your shoes."

Arnold Klaus looked at his attorney who regretfully nodded to him. He stuck both his feet on the top of the table and Sara peered at them with intense scrutiny. She pulled out the photo of the shoe impression she had collected from the scene the first time she had been there and compared it to the bottom of Arnold's shoes.

"Mr Klaus, the shoe impression is a match we found to one we collected from the scene. We've got you for grand theft."

"What made you resort to murder?" Monaghan piped up. Arnold appeared stunned by this accusation, his eyes widened and his feet, now on the floor, began to tap feverishly.

His attorney began to speak, "Mr Klaus don't say anyt..."

"Okay I admit to the theft charges," Arnold blurted out, "but I swear I didn't kill that woman."

"So you admit to being there, those two Fridays?" Monaghan asked to which Arnold nodded, "what about the Friday just gone."

"Okay, I admit, I went to see if I could get in again, find something to sell," he rambled, his speech speeding up and his voice becoming high-pitched, "I needed the money badly, I mean look at me, how can I get by like this? But I saw a light on in the house, I knew it wasn't a good idea, I only break into empty houses I swear."

"Because that makes stealing even better," Sara responded sarcastically. "Getting in's pretty easy, just slide the window round the back and crawl through. I want to know though, what did you kill her with? Why attempt to cover up your crime by crushing her w..."

"I never did any of that! I swear!" Arnold yelled, rising from his seat.

"Sit down," Monaghan said sharply, Arnold obliged to her order.

"What do you two have which actually puts my client at the scene of the murder?" The attorney asked them both impatiently.

"We don't," Sara said truthfully.

"But we can arrest your client for grand theft," Monaghan told them both happily, "have a fun year in prison Mr Klaus."

Arnold just stared at the floor as the over viewing officer hoisted him from his seat and took him away. His attorney followed suit, grunting and giving both Sara and Monaghan an evil glare as he left.

"Well, we didn't quite get what we wanted," Monaghan said in a tone which seemed almost too cheerful considering the circumstances.

"I wasn't too sure about the guy myself," Sara said to her quietly, "I mean, none of the prints on the fridge belonged to him, not even anything in the house did. I'm starting to feel this may be an accident or some weird suicide death wish."

"Hey, don't get yourself down," Monaghan said to her, "I've heard people say you get far too involved in cases for your own good. Just because you don't get a conviction with every case it doesn't mean you're a failure."

Monaghan smiled to her and Sara felt obliged she had to smile back although she felt no happiness emitting it. She heard her pager beep and with a groan, brought herself to look at it. "I need to go," she told Monaghan, "Greg apparently has something 'exciting' to show me in the garage."

"I don't know if you should be alarmed or equally excited," Monaghan joked back at her, prompting Sara to smile, although this one, portrayed genuine warmth. She picked up her stuff and began leaving the room, "you know, just call me if you need someone picking up again."

* * *

><p>"Right Lorena," Nick said in a comforting voice, "I'm gonna need to know exactly what happened between you and Lomar Valdez up to Saturday morning."<p>

"I... urm... I..." she faltered, unsure where to start.

"Lorena," Ray said in an equally soothing voice, "the physical evidence is implying that you murdered him. Even with a suicide note, I can't guarantee the jury may take sympathy on you, so if you don't want to be in jail for a very long time, I'd advise you to start speaking now."

Lorena looked at her attorney desperately who whispered into her ear something which suggested that she should speak up.

Finally, the barrier was broken and Lorena began talking, "okay, okay. It all began around five months ago. Lomar and I were having a rough patch; I kicked him out the house one evening for something stupid, something _really_ stupid. That evening, Stefan came round unexpectedly..."

"Stefan, as in Stefan Berluschi?" Nick asked, "the man who went up to the room with you after Lomar died?" Lorena nodded.

"_Okay Stefan, what did you do when you got to her apartment then?" Vega asked Stefan Berluschi, who was sat across him in an adjacent interrogation room. The man's cold eyes glanced at him for a second, before he began telling his side of the story._

"_I heard she and Lomar had gotten into a rough patch so I went round to... let's say, comfort her. I mean, I didn't intend on anything to happen but we just... we just..."_

"_It's okay, I get what you're trying to say," Vega noted, "what happened after that?"_

"Well, although I hated to admit it, but the way Stefan made love to me was far more passionate, far more enjoyable than the sex Lomar and I ever had," Lorena whispered, sounding rather embarrassed to be relaying this information, "I found myself falling in love with him. I tried to convince myself not to, but after he broke up with his girlfriend... I... I..."

"Okay, you couldn't lay his hands off him," Ray finished for her, "so where did this trip to Vegas come from?"

"_Lomar suggested that we ought to do something as friends," Stefan said, "he was thinking of taking his girlfriend to Vegas and insisted that the group of us should come."_

"_The group?" Vega asked, "what, your own special wolf pack?"_

"_Well there was Lomar and Lorena, myself, my ex-girlfriend and another couple, so yes we all agreed to come along. We arrived Wednesday night and decided we'd have a guys night out, you know, hit a couple of casinos, a few strip clubs, all that stuff and the ladies would have a girly night out."_

"On the second night," Lorena carried the story along, "we decided to have a couples night... well, a bit more actually, someone suggested we should swing and I immediately thought that was a great idea."

"Let me guess, you ended up having a steamy night with your Romeo," Nick remarked.

"Yeah," she admitted, beginning to sound even quieter for every tale she spoke, "I don't know how he found out about it," she said referring to the note on the table, "Lomar and I weren't feeling up to going out Friday night. I didn't know he was even in the room at the time but anyway we had sex... and it was average, I tried to spice things up, a bit of pillow play but no, he wouldn't have any of it."

Ray and Nick exchanged an awkward glance between them as she went into details about how much better Stefan had been before Nick interrupted her by shouting over her, "hey, hey, I think we get the picture." Lorena immediately shut her mouth and her attorney shuffled uncomfortably in her chair. "So tell me what happened after you had sex with Lomar."

"I went down to do some gambling, I mean, it is Vegas and all. Around eleven thirty, I wanted to go somewhere else and it was getting cold so I went up to the room to get my coat and..." tears began to form in the corners of her eyes, "and..."

_"She rang me telling me something was wrong and to meet her back at the Emerald Eyes," Stefan continued the story, "so I get there just before midnight and she shows me... Lomar... lying on the bed, dead." Vega watched him blink blankly, as if he was finding it difficult to continue the story. "She showed me the suicide note... and the part about the life insurance for us... she wanted to call the police but I told her she wouldn't get the money for the life insurance... so I said we should, stage it as a murder."_

"He told me to destroy the suicide note, get rid of anything which might have suggested it was suicide and together we... we threw his body out the window," Lorena began bawling. "I couldn't destroy the note... it's the last thing which connects me, to him... I just can't..."

"_Afterwards, I told her to go somewhere else, anywhere away from the Emerald Eyes and wait for it to pass over... all she had to do was keep her big mouth shut."_

"_Well, I think I've heard enough here," Vega yawned and closed his notes, "Mr Berluschi, you're under arrest for tampering with evidence," he gestured to the overseeing officer who cuffed him. He added coldly, "enjoy the rest of your stay in Vegas."_

There was an eerie silence in the room once Lorena had finished her story. It was broken up by Nick's cell phone ringing; pulling it out of his pocked he answered it swiftly. "Stokes... yep... okay, thanks Mandy." He turned to Lorena and began talking to her, "luckily for you, you're not being charged with murder. Trace confirms that the diazepam was ground up by the pebble we found, containing only prints belonging to Lomar."

Lorena began smiling with relief, although Ray quickly wiped it off her face, "however, tampering with evidence surrounding a suspicious death is a felony in itself. So you'll be lucky if you manage to escape the clink." Her attorney gave Langston a disapproving glare which stated she was going to try and intervene. She abruptly stood up and marched out of the room.

"I guess I deserve it," Lorena told herself sadly, ignoring her attorney's departure. "How can I live with the guilt? The guilt that my own boyfriend killed himself because of me!"

"With all due respect Miss Melua," Nick spoke to her, "you had a choice, call the police, or take the money. You made the wrong choice and for that, I have no sympathy towards you."

* * *

><p>Sara walked into the garage and saw that Greg was standing waiting for her, dressed in coveralls and smiling like a dork. "What are you so excited about?" Sara asked him.<p>

"I think I may have just cracked the case," he said excitedly. "Seeing as we have no physical evidence to suggest that there was anyone else there, I reckon that Mrs Blanchard's death was an accident."

"So much for being so sure it was murder," Sara commented sarcastically, "go on, tell us your theory."

"Firstly, how did the fridge get moved away from the wall? I originally thought the killer moved it to push it from behind."

"But, the prints came back to Claudia Blanchard," Sara pointed out.

"Correctamundo," Greg replied, "then, you collected that photo from behind the adjacent counter and you told me that she had temporarily stashed her precious jewellery on top of the fridge."

"Well that's what the mother told me."

"Right. I found some dust voids and it could be fair to say that those were where the jewellery boxes were kept temporarily."

"But we didn't find them at the scene."

"Exactly, which suggests she may have decided to move them to a better place. Now I reckon, at some point she may have knocked something down the back of the fridge, I mean, you found the photo pretty much behind it too, what if that was also on top of the fridge?"

"So she'd have to push the fridge forwards to get the stuff which had fallen behind."

"Exactly what I was thinking. This doesn't sound too... you know... crazy does it?"

"Strangely enough, it's making sense," Sara admitted.

"Good," he flashed another goofy smile and continued rambling, "now the broken chair. I reckon the victim was standing on it to get the boxes off the shelf, I reckon it must have given way at some point. Victim falls and hits their head."

"We found a small blood pool away from where the fridge landed from her, so that's how she got the head wound."

"Right," Greg continued his theory, "now we get on to the grand finale! The head wound was not immediately fatal, yes?" Sara nodded, "maybe in her dazed and confused state she didn't know if there was still anything up there, and not wanting to risk using a chair again, she leaps up and grabs on to the fridge to check. She adds too much weight to the top, unbalancing the fridge and then smack!" He clapped his hands together as he signalled with his hands Claudia Blanchard's final moments.

"That seems a good theory, it explains the blood, the lack of evidence, the prints on the top of the fridge, but we don't have a lot to prove the build-up to it."

"We don't, but I was once told many times it's not about the why, it's about the how, and if we can prove the how, we don't need to worry about the why."

"And _how_ exactly are you going to do that?"

"Follow me," Greg waved Sara to follow him into the garage where she saw the very same fridge set upright. It had been roped onto a pulley and a crash mat lay on the floor in front of it. Greg stood in front of the apparatus and proclaimed in a loud voice, "now for my next trick, I'm going to need a volunteer," he pointed at Sara, "you! Yes you! The pretty lady with the gap, step right up please."

"Why can't _you_ demonstrate this?" Sara quizzed him, adding, "and don't comment on my gap!"

"Well I presumed that you were a closer build and size to Claudia than myself and therefore more suitable for the experiment."

"Okay then," she said uneasily, "are you sure this is safe?"

"Yes it is, the ropes should hold it in place at a forty degree angle, I tested it earlier."

Sara looked up at the fridge, still not trusting Greg's experiment entirely but at least she could pin the blame on him if it went wrong. She took a deep breath and jumped up and grabbed the top of the fridge. She immediately felt the fridge beginning to tip over and in a panic, she let go prematurely.

"Hold on a bit longer," Greg called out to her.

"Sorry, sorry!" Sara quickly said, trying to hide some anxiety as she stepped up for another go.

She took another deep breath and jumped up again, gripping the top again like last time. Again she felt the fridge begin to tip but this time she held on. A split second later she saw the fridge tumbling towards her, but before she had a chance to let go, the fridge suddenly halted its descent sending Sara stumbling across the room. She let out a small yelp as she began falling backwards only to be caught by Greg, who hoisted her back onto her feet.

She looked back at the fridge; it had indeed been left at a forty degree angle, supported by the make-shift pulley system. "Well," Sara panted, "that's one way to close a case. I better call Monaghan," she grinned, "and tell her that her services are no longer required."

* * *

><p>Catherine walked down the corridor to find her team assembled in the locker room, discussing their peculiar cases which they'd solved that evening. "Listen up everyone," Catherine announced holding the room's attention, "before you all clock out, don't forget to pick your annual evaluations on the way out. Oh, and don't take things too much the wrong way," she chuckled and left them both confused and concerned that they hadn't been informed of their evaluations.<p>

All of them decided to go together and share each other's reports as they left the building. "Apparently I need to be less emotionally involved with my cases," Nick laughed, "hey Sara, are you sure you haven't got mine?"

"Shut it, Texas!" She snapped back at him reading her own evaluation, "pretty bog-standard evaluation, same every year though, "Sara needs to express a greater appreciation for lab politics."" She mocked.

"Well if it's the same every year, surely that shows you need to take feedback on board," Greg smiled opening his, upon reading his he scowled and cried out, "oh for God's sake! I'm sure she's not allowed to put that in her reports."

"She mentioned your stripper friend again?" Nick teased.

"Burlesque dancer," Greg reminded them, "okay Ray, what do you have?"

"Hmm," he commented, "I'm doing well, but I shouldn't be afraid to ask your colleagues for assistance when in trouble."

"So when were you gonna tell us about your recommendation for CSI three?" Nick commented, peeking over at his files causing a cheer from the other members of the team and Ray to blush.

"Oh, it's nothing... really," Ray laughed, trying hard not to attract all the attention.

Upon reaching the car park, the team said their goodbyes and departed to their vehicles, looking forward to not having to pull a double and having some quality time at home. Greg was just about to unlock his car when he heard a voice, a familiar voice call out behind him.

"Hey Sanders, wait up." He turned around and stood in front of him was Amy Griffin, the paramedic who he had "interrogated" earlier that day. "I need a ride home."

"Errm... didn't PD call you a cab?" Greg asked her suspiciously.

Amy shrugged her shoulders and looked at him with cute, begging eyes, like a puppy, "I guess he didn't turn up."

"I don't know, I think it's agai..."

"Listen," she said quietly, a smirk appearing on her face, "you got me into this mess by bringing me down here so you better get me out of it and take me home." She whispered, "you know it's not good news to get on the bad side of a paramedic."

Greg sighed and finally gave into her, "Fine, I'll take you home, but don't tell anyone, technically you were a person of interest."

"My lips are sealed," she winked at him cheekily, almost, seductively, as she strapped herself into the passenger seat. "Thanks Hojem."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hmm... mysterious, how does she know his name? ;)**

**This chapter was meant to be a bit longer with one of the scenes extended but I've decided to cut it down and use it in a later story which I think will suit it better in my opinion. Also, the scene where they interrogate suspects in Nick's case, Nick/Ray are interrogating Lorena and Vega is interrogating Stefan separately and I joined the conversations together. (Just a little note if you got confused at that point.)**

**That is the end of the story. The next story in the series, **_**Too Little, Too Late **_**(1x05) will be published on Friday July 15. It will also be a Nick-centric story so Nick fans will be in for a treat next week! :)**

**Thank you all for reading and feel free to review and let me know what you thought!**


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